


Holding Hands

by TheOtherCourse (kanevixen)



Series: Tom and Abigail Series [9]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Actors, Co-workers, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Holding Hands, Sexual Tension, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 08:09:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3403211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanevixen/pseuds/TheOtherCourse





	Holding Hands

“Father,” she scoffed derisively. I watched the conflicting emotions play over her beautiful features. Her left eyebrow lifted slightly, her eyes widened and her lips pressed into a hardline of disappointment. “You are no father to me, merely a man who fucked my mother,” her voice wavered briefly over the syllables, the emotion so powerful it nearly took me off my feet. Sighing deeply, her chest rising and falling with the effort of it, the woman gathered her courage to deliver her last line. “The only man I need in my life is my husband.”

She turned her head to look at me with reverence and utter honesty. The earnest and potent delivery of that piece of dialogue had such an effect something tightened in my groin. An involuntary reaction to perfection that there was no fighting it, like an unexpected standing ovation so enormously felt. As the meaning of her speech and her look to me fell over the hushed crowd, the lights faded to black. My Abigail wasn’t on stage with me, she’d become her character Sarah.

I’d seen her rehearse that monologue countless times over too many hours, but the conviction of it was so much more then, opening night. I wasn’t wrong when I told her she was phenomenal and intimidating. Her turn as Sarah was a force of nature and I was terribly proud of her.

In the darkness of the stage, seeing the splattering of glow tape marking various places for set pieces, I reached out to wrap my arm around her shoulders but she was gone. She hustled off stage right to wait for her curtain call. I sprinted off in the opposite direction, disappointed that I couldn’t touch her. I stood tall in the wings watching her above the heads of the rest of the cast, utterly captivated by her. She was oblivious of my focus and concentration on her, paying respect to her fellow actors and actresses.

The audience’s applause was enthusiastic and increased in volume as the more prominent players stepped center stage for their bows. Abigail kept her head down until she walked out for her bow to a deafening increase in decibel levels from the clapping and much deserved bravas. With a brilliant smile, tears filled her eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks at the warm reception. Both hands over her heart, she half-bowed half-curtsied in graceful respect of her audience.

When she turned to me to indicate that I join her on stage, she stole my breath, absolutely luminous. I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame, and I couldn’t deny her warm attractiveness. I bowed deeply, mouthing a stream of thank yous so sincerely felt that I wanted to weep along with my co-star. And finally I was able to reach for her hand.

Overcome with the emotion of opening night elations and a successful performance, I wrapped my hand around Abby’s. Our eyes held, a moment so pure and intimate that only we understood it. I brought her hand to my lips in reverence and brushed a kiss along the soft skin on the back, a show of respect and a show of solidarity. The cast and the audience loved that kind of thing, but what they all didn’t know was how truly felt the gesture was.

Against tradition of curtain calls, I urged Abby in front of me once more for the audience to have another deserved round of applause for her. I was the name, but she was the true talent and star that evening. She got another fantastic spotlight accolades. The cast resumed the company bow and vacated the stage as the heavy red curtain fell between us and the audience beyond. Abby turned to follow off, but I wouldn’t let go of her hand, still tucked firmly in mine.

Center stage, with everyone else otherwise engaged in congratulations and praise, I stood with her, torso to torso, hands clasped. She looked up at me blankly, but I could see her relief of her accomplishment. “Well done, my darling, Abby.”

A surprised graciousness fell over her face, and she was happy. “And you as well actually,” she smiled shyly. Sarah was gone, and she was my Abigail.

Lifting my hand, I stroked over her hair, stunned by how much her performance had affected me. I didn’t doubt she could accomplish such a feat, only that she had so flawlessly, so effortlessly, so beautifully. She’d come so far and I was pleased to have witnessed her transformation from duckling to swan. The best part of it all was that she didn’t know the influence she possessed.

I lowered my lips to hers and kissed her softly. If anyone were to view us would’ve assumed that we were merely costars, praising each other. I whispered into her mouth, “I’m anxious to be with you tonight.”

“Cast party,” she reminded me with a wink.

“My dressing room then,” I informed her as I turned on my heel. I grasped her hand tighter and led the way.


End file.
